Going the Full Nine
Like a pitcher throwing a complete game, the man who tends to his partner effectively throughout pregnancy does not accomplish the feat by chance. It results from a combination of knowledge, skill, anticipation and resilience. Here are some tips to help you make her feel cared for from the first hint of morning sickness to the last moments of labor.
Pre-game
What’s happening:
You’re mentally and physically prepared. You already have the equipment. You’re trying to get the game started.
Your role:
Let your partner see that you’re interested in the overall process rather than just the result. Read books together on her physiological cycles and other helpful information. If things don’t happen immediately, at least you won’t feel in the dark.
Rain Delay
What’s happening:
It’s taking a while for the game to start, and frustration is looming. She might be feeling that her body is letting her down, a feeling exacerbated by others having babies seemingly at will.
Your role:
Be patient, supportive and exceedingly sensitive to her emotions. Even though you’re confident your boys are simply swimming out of their lanes for the moment, her worries probably run deeper. Since stress can serve to further compound things, it’s up to you to provide constant encouragement and compassion. If she starts weeping after hearing an acquaintance from high school is pregnant, reassure her that it’s going to happen. Remind her that it takes, on average, six months to get the game going, and a year is not uncommon.
(Techniques for getting the game going are indefinite. Some experts recommend an attempt every day; some, every other day; some, two out of every three days on alternate weeks plus four times on Sundays; and so on. The truth is no one really knows what works besides good old-fashioned persistence.)
First Inning
What’s happening:
To your utter delight, a little blue line has informed you the game has begun. For now your jubilation remains private, until you’re sure the game is official. You’re simultaneously elated and anxious.
Your role:
Encourage her to drink water, the baby’s crucial nutrient river at this point. Buy a case of bottles so she doesn’t feel it’s a chore to refill her glass every hour.
Second Inning
What’s happening:
You wake up one morning to find a woman in your bed who has silicone implants, only to realize it’s the same woman you always go to bed with. What’s more, she’s experiencing varying waves of nausea around the clock.
Your role:
Though you may find the change in her body strangely appealing, don’t act overly pleased, lest she thinks you weren’t happy before. When she gets nauseous, remind her that it’s a result of your child beginning to experiment with motion. If she tells you to shut up, do so.
Third Inning
What’s happening:
Your wife seems to drowse at the drop of a hat, even though as far as you know she isn’t doing any strenuous exercise.
Your role:
Don’t be surprised if you’re entertained by her sudden narcolepsy, but realize that to her it isn’t a laughing matter. Someone is in there taking a portion of everything she takes in for herself. Take some time to think about how that would feel. Remind her that every change she experiences signals another way she’s nurturing your child and avoid comparisons like, “I know what you mean – it’s like the drain I feel after a good workout.”
Fourth Inning
What’s happening:
The risk period has passed; you’ve made the game public knowledge, and exhilaration reigns. Your mother has called everyone she has ever known to share the news. You’re starting to discuss names. The ones you come up with get rejected immediately. Your wife is feeling flutterings of movement. You’ve seen hard evidence of your growing child on an ultrasound screen and heard its heartbeat.
Your role:
Affirm her emerging motherness by agreeing with everything she senses. If she thinks she’s starting to show, grant her the fact, whether or not you really think she is. When she shows your buddies her tummy and they continue to stare past her toward the sports highlights, tell her they just aren’t in that place right now.
Fifth Inning
What’s happening:
She’s settled into a rhythm and has regained some pep.
Your role:
Continue to agree with her rather than playing the realist, as men instinctively do. If she thinks she feels the baby moving, get excited with her instead of suggesting it’s probably something else. If she’s concerned that the watermelon seeds she swallowed might affect the baby, ask if she’d like you to call her doctor instead of questioning her logic. She isn’t logical right now, and because she’s nurturing a fragile human life inside her, she has every right not to be.
Sixth Inning
What’s happening:
As her body begins its gradual preparation for delivery, her shape is continuing to change. Chances are she’s less than thrilled about it.
Your role:
Remind her often that she’s doing great, looks terrific, has the stamina and perseverance to go all the way and that you’re proud of her just for having come this far. Let her know how wonderful a nursery she is by taking out a recent ultrasound snapshot and showing her how content your baby is swimming around in there.
Seventh Inning
What’s happening:
She may be wilting and telling you she’d just like to finish the game already. You’re confused, since a) just a month ago she was describing to her friends the exhilaration of the whole experience; b) you never get tired of feeling those kicks and movements on her belly; and c) you thought this was the easy part.
Your role:
As at any point in the process, make a concerted effort to put yourself in her shoes. Regarding the three points of confusion, a) she doesn’t want to sour the experience for someone else, so she’s going to talk about the experience only in positives; b) you’re feeling those kicks and movements on the surface – she’s feeling them inside, all the time, day and night; and c) right now she isn’t thinking about what happens after delivery – her growing discomfort doesn’t allow for foresight. Get used to this, because soon you’re going to be talking her through labor, which is all about trying to get from one moment to the next.
Seventh-Inning Stretch
What’s happening:
She’s feeling severely unattractive and now considers all manufacturers of maternity clothes Satan’s disciples.
Your role:
Take her away somewhere – anywhere – for a short period. The destination doesn’t have to be Fiji – the purpose of this trip is to relax her. Shower her with romantic stuff, because it’s now that she’s feeling most unattractive. Let her know you find her as beautiful as ever, if not more. Do not make stereotypical jokes to your friends about “not getting any” – the fact that these are easy jokes tells you they aren’t funny.
Eighth Inning
What’s happening:
You’re nearing the end of the game. Things might be getting tense in the clubhouse for a number of reasons: she barely recognizes herself, her ankles are swollen, her face is puffy, her breasts feel gigantic, her back is sore, circulation to her fingers and toes takes a frequent detour, the baby is pummeling her like a boxer in training, she can’t find a comfortable sleeping position and last time you tried to make love, you gave up because you kept accidentally bopping against her stomach, making her feel even more huge.
Your role:
Be a selfless teammate. Imagine yourself the pitcher sucking it up to get to that final out. Remind yourself that when she complains about those shots to her ribcage, she isn’t faking – the kicks are real and they hurt. From now on, no amount of massages is enough. Her feet and hands will especially appreciate some deep-tissue work accompanied by a nice cream or oil.
Buy the birth gift now – a mother’s ring, perhaps, or a necklace with the baby’s birthstone as a pendant – so that you’re covered in case of early delivery. You’ll find more gift suggestions here!
Rain Delay No. 2
What’s happening:
The novelty has long passed, and it seems to her as if the game is never going to end.
Your role:
Keep her distracted and happy. Distraction doesn’t have to come in the form of fancy dinners or expensive gifts. Do a silly air-guitar routine. Create a sock-puppet show. Recite spontaneous love poetry. Make fun of your family members. Mostly she just wants to focus on something other than her size and soreness, so pull out all the stops to help her do it.
Ninth Inning
What’s happening:
She’s running on all cylinders in preparation. In particular, her nesting instinct – the sudden, unaccountable urge to clean – is kicking in. No one knows why it happens, but it’s as real as Anna Kournikova. She may ask you to clean a room in the morning and then the same one again at dinner. She asks you six times a day if you’ve memorized alternative routes to the hospital.
Your role:
Take the initiative to prepare, which will show her you’re on top of things. Pack and double-check the hospital bags – hers and yours. Get a beeper or cell phone if you don’t already own one. Tell her repeatedly how terrific she’s been throughout the process and what a wonderful mother you know she’s going to be.
Extra Innings
What’s happening:
You’ve already gone past regulation and still the game won’t end. Every hour past the due date seems like an eternity.
Your role:
Experiment with the three most popular techniques for encouraging a baby to come out and join the party: sex, spicy food and vigorous activity (such as hiking or long walks). Combine all three if you like.
Post-Game
What’s happening:
The game is over, and the result is more beautiful than you ever imagined. You’re reporting a certain date, time and weight over and over and loving it. Her girlfriends are enjoying every detail of the labor story, which you find a bit curious.
Your role:
Don’t contradict her version of the narrative. You’ll likely disagree with some of the details, but since she was on heavy drugs for much of the time and battling severe pain for the rest, you should be able to forgive a few inaccuracies.
Recovery
What’s happening:
Like a depleted pitcher coming down after a hard-fought win, she’s experiencing a roller coaster of emotions, especially after the endless stream of family and friends dissipates, you return to work and she realizes she’s responsible for taking care of the vulnerable little creature alone. Though you talked about sleep deprivation, the reality of it is slowly ravaging you. You feel like you’re existing in an alternate reality.
Your role:
Take at least a week off from work, or if possible, two. If you can afford it, hire a nurse for the first few nights to help get you acclimated to the constant cycle of feeding, burping and changing. Understand that whatever fatigue you’re feeling, she’s feeling tenfold, compounded by the emotion of being responsible for a baby’s healthy development. Hang in there. Tell her how much you love her. Do it often. Look at the little miracle in your arms, celebrate what you’ve accomplished together and prepare to experience unparalleled joy for the rest of your lives.